


it's been a long, long time

by cecilysmith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilysmith/pseuds/cecilysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky returns to Steve, and Bucky <i>remembers</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's been a long, long time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off a song I found on the Winter Soldier score; it's a bonus track, called It's Been a Long, Long Time. I fell in love with the song, go listen to it, and I realized it's extremely stucky, so this fic was born from that. The song is by Harry James and Kitty Kallen and it was released in 1945, which I realize is after Steve went into the ice, so let's pretend it came out years earlier, kay?

At first, Bucky only got a few memories back.

They were all of Steve, so Bucky assumed Steve was a huge part of his life. That's why he saved Steve from the river. The memories showed him a new world, one of peace and happiness. Still, the Asset was dominant, and not even his few memories of Steve could fix that.

The memories confused the Asset. They made great sense to the pieces of Bucky that were left, shoved in the back of his mind. The Asset wondered why Steve didn't hit him when he did something wrong. The Asset wondered why the old Steve looked so different from the new one.

The memories came in a slow trickle. At first, they were very simple. He and Steve walking around Brooklyn, him watching over Steve as he braved another sickness. Part of him wanted more memories, more and more and more, but the rest of him wanted them gone because they were just making his life even harder. He'd escaped his captors, escaped the brainwashing, but now he had to deal with his own head, which somehow managed to hurt just as much, but the pain that came with the memories was different. It hurt so, so much, but it was good at the same time.

Bucky knew Steve was searching for him, and Steve's friend, Sam Wilson. Bucky sometimes wondered if he should go back, but no, that was out of the question. It went against everything he'd ever learned, and besides, he barely knew anything about himself, it could take months, years for him to be ready. But somehow he knew that Steve would never stop searching, never stop waiting for him.

One night, Bucky had a dream.

He and Steve were at Coney Island. They'd ridden the Cyclone, and Steve threw up. Bucky somehow knew this was normal. After Steve was feeling better, they'd just walked around, nothing more, but Bucky's arm was thrown around Steve's bony shoulders, both smiling. Steve had looked up at him with a look in his eyes that Bucky called love, but the Asset could not identify.

After that, the memories came in torrents. Moving in with him when Steve's ma died, watching Steve draw and get those little crinkles around his bright blue eyes and that cute way he bit his lip. He remembered sneaking into the picture shows, grinning slyly at Steve. He remembered dancing around in their tiny living room to their song, _their_ one song, though no matter how hard he thought, the song escaped him. 

Sometimes Bucky would have to hide and curl up while the memories hit, images tearing through his head at a pace even the Asset couldn't keep up with. And sometimes, when it got too much, the Asset would take complete control. Then, Bucky barely existed, and the memories stayed at bay.

It took months for Bucky to have a bigger influence in his own actions than the Asset. Before, Bucky would fight for control when he could.

Perhaps calling Bucky and the Asset two different entities was wrong. The Asset was simply his instinct, ingrained in him for seventy years. Bucky was who he used to be, the man from his memories.

Bucky wasn't sure who he was.

Bucky began to miss Steve, to his surprise. Still, he couldn't go back. There was something missing, something huge. And Bucky couldn't return without that one missing piece that seemed so fundamental.

He visited the many exhibits, watched the movies and the documentaries, all of which got everything wrong, but he still couldn't find it. 

Then, one day he was walking through New York, exhausted and tired of thinking, he saw a couple. They were inconspicuous. Holding hands, murmuring in loving voices only meant for each other. Something Bucky saw often. 

Then, it clicked.

A memory hit him. It was of him and Steve, alone in their tiny, rickety apartment. 1940. The radio was on, just background noise, and Bucky was draped across the couch with Steve settled in his lap, whispering in words too quiet to be heard over the radio, but still, they understood each other.

Then, _their_ song came on. Bucky still couldn't figure out the song, in this memory the noise was cloudy and unintelligible. His past self lifted Steve off him and took his hands, whispering, "Stevie, dance with me."

And Steve looked away, blushing in a way only he could, muttering, "You know I can't dance, Buck." 

Bucky grinned lopsidedly. "We ain't gotta dance properly, Stevie. Just sway back and forth, all romantic." 

Steve grinned. "Didn't take you for a romantic, jerk." But he obliged, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist.

"Only for you, punk." Bucky murmured, holding Steve close.

"Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, Stevie."

And _that_ was what Bucky was missing.

Steve wasn't just his best friend, he was his lover, the love of his life.

It all fit so perfectly. Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, never one without the other. 

That was why Bucky was in Steve's room in Stark Tower, waiting for him. It wasn't hard, at least not for him, to bypass the security systems and slip in unnoticed. 

Every second of waiting for him was agony. What if Steve didn't want him? He had other friends now, he didn't need Bucky, but after all these months of uncertainty, Bucky needed Steve. 

What if Steve detested him for all of the horrible things he'd done? Scratch that, Steve would obviously hate him for that, but would he be able to look past it? Bucky couldn't see how. His panic attacks were frequent, usually more than one a day, would Steve be able to deal with that? Bucky was so fucked up. He was such a mess, and he almost snuck out.

Then, Steve opened the door.

He was much bigger than the memories, but that didn't much matter. It was Steve.

"...Bucky?" He whispered, scared and anxious.

Bucky nodded. "It- it's me."

He looked broken. That was not how he was supposed to look, he hated Bucky, he hated him. "Do you remember?" He asked, staring at Bucky unblinkingly.

Bucky nodded. "A lot of it."

"Tell me." Steve's voice was pleading, tears threatening to spill over his eyes.

He didn't know where to start, but suddenly it was obvious. "Stevie," Steve smiled at the nickname, "what's the song? It's our song, _ours_ , but I can't-" his voice broke. "I can't remember."

Steve's face was emotionless, but slowly he retrieved his phone and typed something in. Seconds later, the old, brassy tune began to emanate from the speaker. It was so familiar and so achingly Steve, and Bucky, on instinct, wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders. Though Steve was bigger and Bucky was all wrong, it seemed exactly the same as the day way back in 1940.

Bucky found himself singing along, singing quietly but sweetly, a sound only for Steve's ears.

" _Never_   _thought that you would be,_

_Standing here so close to me,_

_There's so much I feel that I should say,_

_But words can wait,_

_Until some other day._

_Kiss me once then kiss me twice,_

_Then kiss me once again,_

_It's been a long, long time._ "

They were silent for the rest of the song, wrapped up in each other. Bucky was inhaling Steve's scent, tracing the lines of his back, ghosting his hands along the nape of his neck. In return, Steve ran his hands through Bucky's hair, pressing his face into Bucky's shoulder, holding on like he was afraid Bucky would leave him. 

When the song was over, Bucky looked up at Steve, who was now taller than him, though not by much. 

"It's been a long, long time." Steve said, taking in Bucky. Bucky imagined he looked raggedy and tattered, though Steve didn't seem to care. Steve bit his lip but couldn't choke back a sob.

"I'm here now." He crooned. "I'm here, Stevie, I'm here, I love you."

Steve nodded, wiping his eyes dry. He put his hands near Bucky's face, but hesitated. Bucky nodded, granting him permission, and Steve cupped Bucky's face in his hands and kissed him. It was slow and chaste and _perfect_. When they pulled apart, Steve whispered again, not to Bucky but to himself, "It's been so long."

Bucky bit his lip and kissed Steve again. Against his lips, he murmured, "I love you." He repeated it over and over until Steve melted into him, collapsing on him in the best way possible. And when they went to sleep that night, Bucky snuggled up to Steve, getting as close as possible because now that they were back together, he couldn't ever imagine being apart.


End file.
